When she realized that she had achieved her goal, she removed her head from my cock with an audible pop. She quickly stripped herself of her sweats an... panties and lack back, obviously wanting to be ravaged. I decided to tease her a little, and licked from her ankle to her inner thigh. Lightly blowing on her pussy, I skipped it over to bathe her entire bikini area with my tongue. Without even touching her pussy, she was groaning, but I could see her eyes were on fire. She looked down at me, and. "When I painted him, he was just... an ideal." An... ideal? Your ideal?" The concept seemed strange to me, on several levels. First of all, the young man in the portrait was pleasant-looking. He looked sweet-natured, peaceable -- even handsome. He was the kind of young man that three waitresses, in a small cafe, might giggle over, behind the cash register, as he drank his morning coffee and read the sports pages of the local paper.But... an ideal? Hardly! It was a portrait of what was, perhaps,. More

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